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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433691">Warm Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetkitty420/pseuds/wetkitty420'>wetkitty420</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Led Zeppelin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Lez Zeppelin, Pubes, Vanity, realness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:13:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetkitty420/pseuds/wetkitty420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just two rock stars in the dressing room :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jimmy Page/Robert Plant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Warm Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>“He was always in the mirror, primping his splendid image, and putting perfect waves in his long black hair with a little crimping machine. He used Pantene products, and whenever I smelled them, for years afterwards, I remember being buried in his hair."</p><p>Pamela Des Barres, on Jimmy Page</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“D’ya think we’ll be playing some music tonight? Maybe this week?”</p><p>The metal cylinder dropped from Page’s hand, slid down her black curls and clanked on the concrete floor. </p><p>It rolled towards Roberta, who stopped it under her platformed foot.</p><p>Page looked her up and down.</p><p>“Good. Just who I wanted to see.”</p><p>When Page dropped to her knees, Roberta could see herself in the mirror.</p><p>Dirty hair and a clean face. Her broad shoulders softened by a white ruffled blouse, tied just under her small breasts. Her stomach looked flat that night, not that she cared… she cared a little.</p><p>“We’re about to go on.”</p><p>Page looked up at her with kohl-rimmed green eyes.</p><p>“Your warmup”</p><p>“I’m warm”</p><p>“It’ll calm my nerves.”</p><p>Roberta sighed and uncrossed her arms. That was the closest Page would ever get to asking her for it.</p><p>The jeans fit her like a second skin, she had had to lay down to zip them up. That effort was quickly undone as Page unzipped and yanked them as far down her thighs as possible.</p><p>There was a gingery gold trail leading down to her abundant pubic hair. Page pressed her face right into it and caressed her, like a rabbit rolling in clover. </p><p>When she felt Page’s tongue, Roberta gave an exaggerated, almost sarcastic little yelp, like she did on stage.</p><p>Page licked into her cunt as far as she could, heedless of the zipper which must have been biting into her neck. She worked again on getting the pants down, but Roberta’s thighs were plump and firm. The fabric wouldn’t budge.</p><p>“Turn around”</p><p>Roberta hesitated.</p><p>“Alright. But nothing up the ass.”</p><p>Page made her choir girl “who, me?” face. </p><p>“It itches”</p><p>Nothing worse than wanting to dig in her crack in front of hundreds of people. </p><p>Her heavy platforms clanked as she tottered in a circle, putting her hands out and falling into the wall more than leaning on it.</p><p>Page fitted her hands into the spaces where thigh met ass and pulled her apart. She huffed a little laugh which Roberta felt as well as heard.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“You’re rank”</p><p>“You love it.” </p><p>She said it with conviction. Almost.</p><p>But Page told her it was true with a slow sweep of her tongue. </p><p>For a moment there was cool air, then two slick, blunt fingers probing her. When Page penetrated her, she cried out again. This time it was real underneath the show.</p><p>Page set a no-nonsense rhythm. Roberta could hear the slick sounds shift as she tightened. Before she had time to get used to it, the fingers pulled out and slid under her to find her clit.</p><p>The burn was already starting in her thighs and the soles of her feet. She leaned forward so her elbows pressed against the wall and her curls fell like a grotto around her face. As her muscles began to clench and release, she tangled her hands in her own hair and thought of what Page must see. </p><p>Page made a sound between a hum and a growl and leaned in to suck her lips, wetting the hair there ticklishly.</p><p>“Oh… oh Pagey.”</p><p>She wanted to stomp her feet, kick her legs, but she couldn’t risk losing her balance. The fabric of her jeans was already digging into her outer thighs, and there was a click as some stitch somewhere gave up and popped.</p><p>With nowhere else to go, the energy bubbled up in her and she began to vocalize in earnest. </p><p>Neither of them heard the door open. The sound of a woman clearing her throat made Roberta turn her head to the side, otherwise not moving an inch, to see Janine standing in the doorway, looking sleek and unimpressed.</p><p>“If you two could wrap this up… Bonnie is already set up, we’re just waiting on you.”</p><p>Page pulled her mouth away with a wet smack.</p><p>“Okay. Tell her Bob’s about to come.”</p>
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